The Cartel Catastrophe
by trailtest
Summary: Greg Heffley's normal life is turned upside down once his mother fails to return from a routine shopping trip. Can he, a high school freshman, manage to survive school, the police, and a ruthless substance supplier all at once?
1. Chapter 1

**aka. The Heffley Family's Drug Dealing Dilemma**

* * *

 **10/3/20XX Saturday**

I killed my first person today.

It's 3 o'clock in the morning, and my hands are shaking. I can't even hold my pencil right. My heart's trying to jump out of my chest, and I'm breathing so fast that I probably crossed the line into suffocation.

I'm hiding under my covers right now. The flashlight I'm using shows my sweat covering the places where my hand was. My next few pages are about to be wrinkled, now.

My name is Greg Heffley. I'm only 14. I'm a freshman at Crossland High School. I like playing video games and watching TV. I've also beaten all of Twisted Wizards 3 without losing a life. I bet I can beat anyone head to head at my school on on any game I've played.

Mom and Dad were always kinda mad at me for spending all my time on the screen. At least I wasn't like my older brother, Rodrick. He has his own rock band, Löded Diper. He listens to music that I'm pretty sure is just a string of curse words. I bet he also vapes and smokes pot. But that doesn't compare to what I did today. I'd like to say that I'm not a killer. I'm not, I'm not, I'm not.

I'm not a murderer.

I wish it was true.

* * *

 **10/3/20XX Saturday**

I guess Mom was right. Sleep _does_ make you feel better. It's only now that I'm starting to be grateful for her advice, ever since she disappeared a month ago. That's what everyone else thinks. Only me, Dad, and Rodrick know that she was kidnapped by some mega cartel.

It was a Saturday. At 10:30, she'd leave to go to the store five blocks away to buy whatever gluten free, salt-free health food for the week. Our family hated the stuff - Rodrick lived on the chips and soda he hid in his truck. Dad also spent more time eating out by himself. Me and Manny were stuck gagging bland, coarse grains of quinoa-kale-chia casserole down our throats.

That stuff takes a toll on you, I swear. It's like every Mommy mag preaches feeding your family superfoods, like some legal Xanax for hyperactive kids. If I ruled the country, I'd make it illegal to deprive your kid from the amount of sugar in two Snickers a day. Sugar is, in my opinion, an essential nutrient for success. The night before Mom had been snatched, she and I had faught about her grocery selection. I presented my arguments - pretty convincingly, if I say so myself - to her. She shut me down, telling me that I'd thank her when I got out of college. I wouldn't even graduate from high school in another _four years_ , I replied. Mom didn't accept the rebuttal. She grounded me for two weeks for "insubordination".

Dad noticed that something wasn't right the moment he stepped through the door connecting the garage to the laundry room. He always got home by 6, on the dot. The lack of the smell of boiled bean burgers or whatever Mom copied online tipped him off, I think.

I was busy trying to beat Twisted Wizard 4's City of Shadows DLC, so I didn't notice anything wrong until Dad was asking me about Mom in a tone I've never heard in my life. He sounded _scared_. Dad might've preferred building his WWI figures in the basement compared to some horror movie, but he'd never flinch at the stuff I'd see in my nightmares.

He shook down Manny and Rodrick for where Mom was, but nobody knew. It was then when our phone in the kitchen rang. Dad took the call. He started off with a polite "Hello?", then started speaking with his "Let's talk, _Friend_." voice I've heard only once before.

A year ago, some guy who looked like Rodrick on meth (That anti drug speech they had in middle school _scarred_ me.) tried to mug me and Dad in a parking lot. He pulled out this wicked sharp knife and told us to hand over our wallets, _or else_. Lucky (or, unlucky) for me, I was, as always, broke. Dad, however, _had words_ for this guy. I didn't hear what he said, because he dragged the mugger to a nearby alley, but the Rodrick lookalike was bawling by the time Dad told me to get in the car. If Dad could get some hardened thug begging for forgiveness, I sure as heck didn't want his wrath. I stopped fooling around around him since then.

But when Dad used that same tone again on the phone, I knew something was up. As far as I know, he only used that voice for people waving knives at us. That had to be serious.

Dad hated us eavesdropping on our phone calls, but curiosity got the better of me. I pressed myself against the kitchen entrance and listened.

Looking back, I regret it. I guess nothing would've changed even if I hadn't heard what happened to Mom. I mean, she's still kidnapped to who-knows-where, under the watchful eye of some huge drug dealing gang. Dad's still working with the drug people on the side, sending papers to suspicious people at 4 AM. And I still killed Dad's coworker in our own house.

I feel better now after 9 hours of sleep. I'm kind of in a haze right now. Some part of me thinks that this is all some sick nightmare, with me in a coma for the past month. Like I just gotta pinch myself hard in the cheek and it'll all go away. I'll have to deal with Mom's crazy ideas to get me a role model and stuff, but I'll take that any day now. Though she probably won't forgive me for bludgeoning someone, dream or not. I'll still take it. I hate to say this, but I really, really miss her.


	2. Chapter 2

**10/4/20XX Sunday**

Those people took the body from us last night. Me and Dad only had to have Mr. Brinesworth at our house for dinner, then take him out after he drank three bottles of Dad's finest. Thank goodness we didn't have to clean up the corpse of Mr. Brinesworth ourselves. My only experience with dead bodies before this was the 2 seasons of Dateline I binge watched, and I doubt Dad ever wanted to work in a graveyard.

Did you know that beating someone's skull in with a hammer sounded like an egg being cracked? Over and over again, like I was making some extra large omelette. I saw Mr. Brinesworth's eyes as I did it. The life in his eyes looked like the insides of an egg slowly leaking out, until there wasn't anything left in those dead eyes of his. They looked like a that ghost from one of those horror movies I snagged from Rodrick. I'm definitely not watching those anymore.

It took a few seconds for Dad's coworker to stop twitching like a bug and become still. It took a few more seconds to realize that I'd _actually done it_. A few seconds later, I threw up. On Mr. Brinesworth's body, of course. Dad wasn't too happy, but how could he? He'd just seen me, his son, kill some guy he'd known for years. But it was orders from the group that had Mom. It was either her or him, and we both made the choice.

Dad moved like a robot as he carried the guy and zipped him up in a body bag they'd given us. He told me to clean up the spots of blood and vomit left on the kitchen. I didn't do a good job. I heard the police had luminol that'd show leftover blood as a purple glow. Slam-dunk evidence that'd put Manny in a foster home. Dad's gonna get pissed at me if this ever shows up in court, but can he blame me? I'm the second worst vaccummer in the house, after Rodrick.

So these two guys come in our driveway with one of those pizza triangles taped on the top of their car. They've got the logo and everything down, even though I've never heard of that joint in my life. As planned, they rang the doorbell and took the body bag in their car, then drove away. The whole thing took a minute, max. As far as I knew, it looked like Dad was getting a hot, greasy pizza to our neighbors.

After that, Dad had called me and Rodrick into the kitchen for a "family discussion". Manny would've sold us out the moment he got back into preschool tomorrow if he'd heard, so Dad tucked him into bed after giving him a cup hot chocolate. Manny got a cup of that yesterday, too, when Mr. Brinesworth came over for dinner. Manny's a light sleeper, so I'm not sure _how_ he stayed in bed for two nights in a row. My thoughts? Whatever's in the "hot chocolate" is powerful stuff.

Dad told us the usual stuff I expected. "Don't tell anyone.", "It's all for Mom.", and "Just act normal in front of the police when they inevitably come after learning that Mr. Brinesworth was last seen in the Heffley's household." were a few of the phrases he tossed out. Okay, when Dad mentioned the police, I got scared a bit. I thought they'd put me in with the murderers if they caught me stealing free cupcakes from the store. I'm laughing at third grade me now, but dealing with the police is something I'd love to avoid. Especially when I did do a crime.

A week ago, Albert Sandy told our lunch table that people in prison try not to drop the soap, or else they'd… It makes me gag to think about it. I'm a little skinny and weak for my age, so I know that I'd lose my ability to hold it forever after a day in prison. The people in Dateline always catch the criminals, so it's only a matter of time before I'll end up in the hospital for butt surgery. It's too late now to rat out Dad for working with the cartel, since I've got blood on my hands. I'll just have to do my best to fool the guys investigating us.

I've got school tomorrow. Hopefully I won't act weird like when Ruby Bird started smearing pig blood everywhere.

* * *

 **10/5/20XX Monday**

In my opinion, high school biology doesn't _compare_ to what I did a year ago. Back in 8th grade, I'd get by by writing some stupid report about how plants needed sunlight to live. Now, apparently, the teachers want us to actually do science things instead of putting the obvious on a size 36 research project. Mrs. Strelitzia told us we'd be dissecting rats with a partner today, then pointing out their organs in front of her for a grade. I don't know about you, but I'd fear for my life if I learned that a group of 26 regular class freshmen got their hands on pins, scalpels, and dead rats. Advanced Placement kids might be able to find a cure for rat cancer (if that existed), but I'm pretty confident that all we'd end up doing was have a fighting ring where the loser got pelted by rat intestines.

I wasn't far off. I partnered up with Rowley, my friend since 6th grade, since he gets freaked out at any mention of violence. I once showed him Moral Combat's gameplay trailer, but he fainted by the 25 second mark. Also since, well, he's my friend. He's goofy and bad at video games, but he's stuck with me since 6th grade.

I divided up the work so that I'd do the cutting, and Rowley would tell the teacher his answers. A fair deal, since Rowley hated blood and I thought a pancreas was the thing that fried your brain cells after three hours of math. Rowley was worried since I didn't bother reading how to cut up the rat, but he shut up after I explained how my many hours of Surgeon Simulator made me a de facto (I learned that in English) doctor. Meanwhile, as I guessed, at least half the room started jacking around with their tools. These two guys started jousting while others were placing bets. Mrs. Strelitzia was nowhere to be found. To be honest, I would've done the same - guzzling coke in the teacher's lounge sounded way better than getting sliced to pieces.

Our rat (Rowley started calling it Fluffy) was laid on the board. I pinned its limbs through the foam so Fluffy wouldn't roll over and hovered the blade above its chest. I was fine until I made the mistake of staring at its eyes. Its cold, dead eyes that looked like Mr. Brinesworth's. I don't remember much after that, but Rowley told me in the nurse's office that I started freaking out and blabbing about how I didn't do it. Eventually, someone called over the school nurse to carry me out. According to Rowley, _everyone_ got out of their class to see what was going on.

My social life is ruined. I'm gonna be like an Ruby Bird or Fregley level weirdo. Rodrick told me about how a freshman girl got caught going down on the fattest guy in her grade. She _never_ lived it down, and legend says that she pimped out herself, since no real company would give her a job. I'm gonna be known as the guy frickin' scared of rats for the rest of high school!

Rodrick's already started trash talking me the moment he walked in the house. He said he'd heard that I pissed myself and fainted the moment I learned I was gonna dissect a rat. I told him that at least I'd never get a 420 on my SAT. Rodrick's starting to realize that his scores aren't gonna cut it after checking out colleges to apply for. He started studying his butt off for a retake this December, but I'm not sure if he can catch up on the 18 years of missed classwork.

Luckily for me, Rodrick's been less of a jerk. My PSAT's are coming up in a year, so I reasoned I'd got plenty of time to study later, and enjoy Twisted Wizard in my prime. Until I blacked out because of Fluffy today. I'm gonna have to convince Dad let me homeschool myself and pay for some plastic surgery, now.


	3. Chapter 3

**10/6/20XX Tuesday**

I was about to show Dad some plastic surgeons I'd researched last night, but he wasn't in the mood. He hadn't been in the mood since Mom was taken. He's only 40, but his hair's starting to gray. I even caught him looking up performance enhancing pills on our family laptop, since he's getting tired.

Dad sighed at me when I told him I wasn't feeling well enough to go to school. He knows that me and Rodrick hate it, but told us that truancy would cause CPS and police to investigate us. Fortunately, he wasn't in the mood to scream at me, so he just said to not do anything stupid.

I'm not lying, by the way. I woke up with a cold sweat and threw up last night after dreaming about a rat with Mr. Brinesworth's wrinkly face chasing me through a maze. This guy's laughing at me from Heaven, I swear. More importantly, the thought of school's making me nauseous. I'm gonna get burnt alive if I stepped foot in the cafeteria for the rest of my life.

I got two worksheets and an English test to study for, but I don't feel like doing it. I'm just gonna play Fortnight and eat some chips until Dad kicks me off.

* * *

 **10/7/20XX Wednesday**

It's Wednesday. That's when we get to talk with Mom.

Dad wasn't an idiot when he got a call from the cartel. He wasn't gonna work with the drug guys unless they had proof that Mom was alive. So they came to a deal - Dad would send over shipments of pills to the guys while we'd get to video chat with Mom for an hour every Wednesday. If he did well, they said, they'd release her.

I used to think that the people in movies were idiots. The bad guys would always kill off the hostages, no matter what the main characters did. Looking back, I'm the idiot to think I'd test the group with guns pointed at Mom. Still, I always get this feeling that they're gonna kill her anyway once Dad's fired and imprisoned.

Dad knows it too. Every time the screen pops up with Mom's face, he's been spending more time face-to-face with her than ever. Once, he hogged the chat for 45 minutes. He started bawling and apologizing to her, while I got secondhand embarrassed.

Today, he _broke_. Dad began telling her the usual - that she'd come home soon and the kidnappers would rot in jail. He also told her about how Rodrick's been studying super hard, Manny learned his A's and how I got sick after touching a rat. She smiled after hearing about us (after laughing about me), then told us this:

"I know that you're going to do anything to bring me back, Frank. That's why I married you. But please, don't don't drag the kids into this. And don't hurt anyone for my sake, either."

Too late. Mom would freak if she learned about Mr. Brinesworth. And how I murdered him. And how Rodrick spiked the wine with benadryl. Only Manny's hands were clean.

Dad excused himself and locked himself in his room. Mom understood why. She was _devastated_. The line cut off, and me and Rodrick went up to our rooms.

I'm scared how the rest of this is gonna play out. Mom's been telling Manny that she had an important job to do, since he would've snitched on us the moment he learned what was actually going on. But with Dad's reaction to Mom's request, I think Mom's gonna think a good helping of dropped soap's gonna straighten us up.


	4. Chapter 4

**10/8/20XX Thursday**

Dad forced me back to school today. I'm not sure why he thinks I'll suck it up, when he's the one who got us stuck with dealing in the first place. In a way, it's his fault that I killed Mr. Brinesworth. First off, he gave me the hammer from his toolbox. Secondly, I wouldn't have looked like a wimp if Dad hadn't brought us into his problem.

Don't get me wrong - I miss Mom. Ever since she left, me, Dad, and Rodrick were left with the chores she used to do. I'm sick of picking up Rodrick's crusty socks. I'm sick of separating the darks and the lights. I'm sick of having to make sure Manny doesn't get flattened by some idiot guzzling Bud Light in a school zone.

I can't believe Dad thinks I'll get over this so quickly. _I killed someone_. It wasn't even for a legit reason, like when Ruby got shanked after biting the wrong person.. I need at least a month of Overwatch grinding, 6 crates of soda, and some darn good therapy before I'll consider stepping foot in Crossland High again.

But then Dad reminded me that skipping school was gonna sic the cops on us. Between showering with a bunch of guys years older than me and a somewhat normal school life, I'd picked the latter.

Bryce Anderson's goons were waiting for me at my locker. They called me a pussy and asked me if I wanted to be called girl pronouns. I don't even know how they thought I was trans after the Fluffy incident. I told them that they must've been gay for me if they missed me that much, because it's obvious they've been waiting for me for the past two days. Then they called me the f-word, which goes to show much they're hiding in the closet.

Mom would've washed all our mouths if she heard us, which I think isn't fair. I'm 14 and the internet exists. It's not cool to be a sheltered kid like Maddox Selsam who I bet thinks doing lines is the same thing as linear algebra. I guess I wouldn't be a good influence on Manny if I started swearing every other sentence, but I'm pretty sure he's already addicted to the benzos in his hot chocolate. He's been begging for it everytime Dad's home, saying it makes him feel euphoric. My language choices aren't gonna fix that.

Before I ended up eating my teeth, Bryce's gang shoved me out of the way when the class bell rang. Not only was I late, but I also ended up with a bruise on my forehead after I crashed into the wall. It looks like I have a plum on my head.

When I walked into Mr. Ottoman's Humanities class, everyone started giggling. Mr. Ottoman kinda giggled too. Since he had Rodrick three years ago, I bet he thinks I'm a bad kid just like my brother. Lately, I've been determined to prove him wrong, so Humanities is the only class that I have a solid B in. I guess it's not enough for him, since he's always making fun of me.

Today, Mr. Ottoman assigned us a two week long project about the drug trade in different time periods. We got to choose our own partners, which would've been AWESOME if I had a friend in this class. No one wanted to be partners with _me_ , especially after what happened in Biology. The worst part? There's an odd number of kids in my class, so I had to work _alone_ when everyone else got to do half the stuff. I told Mr. Ottoman that that was pretty unfair, but he told me that I would've bought a project either way. That made me really mad, since I'm _not like_ Rodrick, so I replied that at least I wouldn't get guillotined like the leaders of the Ottoman Empire, unlike him. Take _that_ , I bet he was surprised that I studied pre-WWI history like everyone else.

I have a theory that teachers aren't _actually_ humans. They don't what us kids' lives are like and can't take a joke. I read online that some of our presidential candidates are actually lizard people wearing high-tech human suits. I mean, if that's true - it sure explains why Mr. Ottoman's such a humorless, judging prick. It's not fair that I get punished for something Rodrick did a few years ago, and it's also dumb that I got sent to detention after I told him that I hoped his bald head got lopped off. He's gonna regret it when I expose his zipper to the world.

Principal Anderson looked like he sucked up a lemon the moment I walked into his office. He's Bryce Anderson's dad, so I bet he has it out for me too. He yelled at me for making an "implied death threat" towards Mr. Ottoman, but didn't listen to _my_ side of the story. Apparently, that was illegal, so I started sweating a little because that meant he was gonna call the police. I didn't even _do_ anything wrong today, but I knew the police had these polygraphs that would tell if you did anything illegal in your life. They'd make me pay back all my library fines from elementary school and arrest me for murder.

Luckily, Principal Anderson didn't sic the cops on me, but he did send me to ISS for Friday.

See, this is a part of why school sucks. Learning things I'd never use in my life is one thing, but punishing the wrong kids is another. A month ago, Ruby Bird went on some biting spree after frothing in the mouth. There was this HUGE rabies scare, with a lot of us getting checked out by the vet, but the school didn't do a thing. The teachers were throwing out excuses like "Disability accommodations" and "Litigation risk" to defend Ruby, but a lot of the grade didn't believe it. If Ruby Bird, who I'm pretty sure sent hemophiliac to the hospital, got a slap on the wrist, how come _I_ had to sit alone with Principal Anderson for a day?

He's gonna watch me like a hawk, since I'm related to Rodrick and not one of his son's goons. AND he's gonna tell my Dad. Dad's gonna _kill_ me.

And he did. Dad picked me up and glared at me like I was one of the people who took Mom. I tried to explain my side, but he wouldn't have it. He just grounded me from video games for a week, and didn't allow me to visit Rowley.

That sucked. Video games are what I live on, if you couldn't tell. Dad didn't care that I was well on my path to become a pro gamer, and certainly didn't care about screwing my training schedule. (I'm a Silver rated Genji main. My mechanics are gonna drop after this is over.)

So that left me with my Humanities project. Mr. Ottoman gave me the "present day" time period for the drug trade. Easy enough, I guess, since we're kinda stuck in a drug dealing ring right now.

To be clear, me and Rodrick aren't the ones dealing - Dad is. He's the local shipment manager for a big medicine company, responsible for sending crates of prescription medicine to licensed stores. He got promoted two months ago, and the event made local news. I guess that's how the cartel tracked us down and forced him to send pills to them on the side. It's kinda genius, if you ask me. Dad's got the power and the trust to steal a little extra without drawing suspicion, but not high enough on the ladder to have security protect us.

I worked all afternoon to make a basic slideshow that showed the cartel, their methods, and the stuff they dealt in 14 point font. Problem was, my sources were pretty illegal. Teachers don't actually check our sources cited, do they?


	5. Chapter 5

**10/9/20XX Friday**

In school suspension sucks. Instead of going to class, you head to the front office, get signed in, and spend 8 hours of bonding time with Principal Anderson. He doesn't even let you bring games or work on homework. Instead, he hands you _extra_ assignments that aren't for any of your classes! The worst part is that the principal lumps you in with the straight up _thugs_ of the school. Rumor says that Walter White, a junior who's in ISS _at least_ twice a week, sent a group of five that jumped him to the emergency room. Mr. Ottoman might've feared for his safety, but I feared for my life.

Instead of the usual school secretary who looked like a hag, Heather Hills took her place. If you didn't know, Heather's the prettiest girl in Crossland, and every straight guy's thought of her with a kleenex in hand. She has the body of a model (She's been in magazines before) and her gorgeous, wavy, blonde hair that drives me crazy. Unfortunately, she a little old for me. I'm more into kids my age, like her sister, Holly.

That didn't stop me from staring at her outfit (A _really_ tight, long sleeved shirt) as she checked me into ISS. She noticed and glared daggers at me after she pointed to Principal Anderson's office. I think she likes me.

The principal handed me a book called _Animal Farm_ and told me to write a 2 page long summary about it. The cover looked like a Stalin poster about pigs. Seriously, what the heck is this? If Principal Anderson wanted to get the school delinquents into reading, he should've handed them a copy of the _Peter Johnson_ series. It's pretty funny _and_ educational, since it's about this half-god kid fighting Greek monsters. After reading all 10 books, I think I'm pretty fluent in Greek.

I didn't want another day in ISS, so I started reading the story. The talking pigs threw me off, since I expected Principal Anderson to assign me "sophisticated literature". Y'know, the ones where you have to find stuff like "symbols" and "themes". As I read more, it got kinda interesting. It's about this group of pigs who get abused by their farmer, so they form a group and scare him off from his house to make their own pig-friendly group that won't screw over animals again. I'm surprised this hasn't happened at Crossland yet. I know a few people who'd love a student owned school that didn't assign homework.

It was 10 AM when someone else walked over to the front desk. Principal Anderson always leaves the office door open, so he can keep watch over his staff. That meant I had a full view of the back of Heather Hills' golden waterfall of hair, her yoga pants, and whoever she talked with. It wasn't hard to eavesdrop, either.

Chris Anderson might've had a cute butt (said by _several_ girls in middle school), but this kid was cute in all the right places. He looked like a guy version of Holly, with a clear face, brown eyes, blond hair and a nice body. No homo. I'm straight, I swear. But if he was a girl, I'd ask her out in a heartbeat.

I tried focusing on my book, but the force of Heather's hair and the new kid kept my eyes busy. I hope he was in my grade, because then all the girls were gonna flock to him and toss Chris with us singles. Then again, Holly would've crushed on him too.

The new kid said his name was Alex. Alex Jefferson, in a nice, smooth British accent. The name tipped me off. The only Jefferson I know is Rowley, and there was _no way_ he was related to Alex. Then Heather asked him some more questions, leaving me as confused and dumbfounded as he replied.

He said he was 14. Okay, that's alright. He looked a little older, though.

Then he said he had a cousin. Named Rowley. Rowley Jefferson. No fricking way. I've _met_ his cousins, and I'd never seen Alex in my life. I guess he didn't feel like messing around with his little brothers 10 years younger than him, but then…

Rowley only has the cousins who live somewhere in Asia. Mongolitzhikstan or something. Alex said he lived in Britain, which explained his accent. But that's not possible. Rowley would've _told_ me if he'd had a British relative in all 4 years I'd known him. He wasn't the type of guy to to pass up the opportunity to brag.

After Heather finished filling out her forms, she said he could leave. But then Alex saw me staring at him through Principal Anderson's open office. You know what he said?

"Oh. Greg Heffley, right? Nice to meet you."

Mom doesn't like me cussing, even in my own private diary, but I think this is an exception.

 _Who the hell is Alex Jefferson and how the FUCK does HE KNOW MY NAME?_


	6. Chapter 6

**10/10/20XX Saturday**

I'm freaking out. Alex is somehow the phantom relative of the Jeffersons I guess they somehow remembered? Like, who the heck forgets to tell a friend they had a cousin? To make things worse, the police came and wanted to talk about Mr. Brinesworth.

Rodrick answered the door. Rodrick's _terrible_ with names. He once mixed up his "friends'" name and Dad's, and then got in huge trouble after Dad got a text that offered $50 for a few ounces. Even though he's starting to catch up on SAT's, I don't think his awful naming skills are gonna change.

Two policemen stood at the door. The first asked if he knew anything about Mr. Brinesworth. Rodrick's _such an idiot_. He forgot about the guy's name and then asked them, "Wait, wasn't that the dude who got hammered in our house last week?"

Knowing Rodrick, he actually meant _hammered_. _Hammered until I cracked his head_. Thank goodness the police thought Mr. Brinesworth was _drunk_. It was half true, though. He drank three bottles of wine before the sleeping pills took effect. Must've been near lethal, but Dad wouldn't take any chances. Mr. Brinesworth was a vet and probably would've beaten three of us in a fair fight. Even when drugged, he would've taken out Dad if he held the weapon. That's why Dad made me do it. I'm a wimp. Apparently, I wouldn't even look like a threat, according to him.

The police seemed okay with Rodrick's answer. I (tried) to push him away, since he would've accidentally leaked some more info. When he wouldn't budge, I just talked over him while the police asked more questions.

All in all, I did pretty great. They drove off without throwing either of us in the back. Rodrick thought otherwise. He said that it looked like _I_ had something to hide when I talked louder over him, and that it'd be my fault if we got raided. I didn't believe him - Rodrick's been lying to me since I could understand words. The final straw was when he told me that Holly Hills was really into Boku no Pico a year ago. Let's just say that I take his words with a grain of salt, now.

At least the police were gone, for now. Alex was still on my mind. Why would Rowley pretend his other cousin didn't exist? He would've been the type to send me crappy pictures of them together. I wanted to visit Rowley's house to get some answers, but Dad's grounding had another 5 days to go. I couldn't even call him - Dad took out the phone lines and my SIM card for something that wasn't my fault.

I don't get how kids like Alex Aruda and Maddox Selsam can _survive_ without video games. My pancreas gets fried after an hour of studying bio, but I've heard that Alex Aruda's taking 8 AP classes this year. Like, _what_? Maybe these braniacs are the lizard people's kids, wearing a junior skinsuit to hide in the crowds.

I worked on my drug trade project for an hour or so on the family laptop. I even went above and beyond the rubric and talked about the effects of drugs on people, even if Mr. Ottoman didn't deserve it. After that, I went to the kitchen to grab some chips for lunch. I couldn't believe what I saw next.

Manny was eating cereal without milk. First off, that's for idiots. People like Fregley eat cereal without milk. Manny wasn't even eating cereal. It was these Mentos-like things. But those weren't Mentos. They were pills. The pills hidden in the pantry. The pills with a so-called child-proof cap. The pills that Dad always crushed up in Manny's nightly "Hot Chocolate".

This was ridiculous. I knew Manny loved drinking the drugged chocolate, but I didn't know how much he _really_ wanted it. The amount of benzos he was shoving in his mouth must've been enough to kill three of his classmates, and put the rest to sleep. The white pills that wouldn't fit in his mouth dropped and bounced on the floor.

I was in shock, really. That crap was something I'd expect to see in an edgy prank video. Only it was real. And Manny was gonna die from an overdose before he was old enough to take part in his first red ribbon rally, then cause CPS and the DEA to swarm us.

Some part of me wanted to let him sleep. We'd bury him in our backyard. Dad would lie and say Manny ran away just like our pet pig. We'd be talked to - again - by the police, but no one would think it was drug related. Because he was 5, after all. What 5 year old eats a years supply of sleeping pills for breakfast?

Thank goodness my rational side kicked in before Manny'd had another spoonful of Diazepam Flakes™. I lunged for the kitchen phone and called 911, then smacked the spoon and bowl off the table. Manny started crying, causing Dad to stomp down the stairs and bust in the kitchen like I was about to kill my brother. He looked at me, then Manny, then at the ceramic shards and pills scattered on the floor. There was _no_ explaining _that_.

By the time the paramedics dragged a stretcher and their huge case of medical supplies into the kitchen, Manny was already out cold. His lips and fingers were turning blue, and I couldn't see him breathe. Dad and Rodrick were close to me, each looking anxious. Heck, I was too. It was a matter of time someone realized that Manny was addicted to drugs, then wonder how he got into the habit. And if Manny died. That, too.

Confession time: I don't really _like_ Manny. Ever since he'd been born, Mom and Dad always coddled and spent time with him instead of _me_. He always got big toys for Christmas, and never got bullied because Mom would ground us if we did. That wasn't fair - Rodrick's been tormenting me for _years_ , and no one did a thing. What's worse is the fact that he's _smart_. Maybe Alex Aruda smart, but for sure smarter than me and Rodrick combined. Once, he saved our hides on a road trip after speaking in _fluent Spanish_ and got some Mexican guys to give us a ride after our car broke down. He's already gotten tested, and the school says Manny's the best they've ever seen. He's even taught by _fifth grade_ teachers sometimes!

So, yeah, I'm a tad jealous of my little brother. It's not right that he gets to be the smart, cute, liked one in our family. And how he gets to be oblivious to the cartel. And how he _never, ever_ had to smack someone dead with a hammer, because Dad sure as heck would've sheltered him from _that_.

Luckily, the paramedics didn't ask questions and just carried out Manny to the ambulance. Dad went with them. He ignored the looks from our neighbors and climbed in the back.

I'm surprised he didn't break down. First Mom, then Manny. To top it off, the doctors would find the drugs in Manny's bloodstream and turn to Dad.

What a crappy day.

I went back to the kitchen and flushed the pills down the sink, then I took a nap.

* * *

 **Congratulations to Guest for the first review of my magnum opus! I've peaked! Don't worry, there's more to come. It's going to get more _intense_ after this.**

 **xoxo trialtest**


End file.
